


Eat of my Fruits

by Anonymous



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AMAB Caleb Widogast, AMAB Mollymauk Tealeaf, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, Genderfluid Mollymauk Tealeaf, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Other, POV Caleb Widogast, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, They/Them Pronouns for Mollymauk Tealeaf, in chapter 2:, well at least the pretense of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: As Caleb approached the throne, the figure sitting upon it did not look up. They were draped over it artfully, one leg over the chair’s arm and a tapered tail over the other. Gold and gems glittered from every limb and dangled from their ears and their long, curling horns. The patron god of this city-state took the form of a tiefling, it seemed, with lavender skin and ethereal beauty.“I am your god,” called the figure.“Long may you reign,” Caleb answered. He may not be from this city-state, but he was a student of history and knew of its protector. Mollymauk was a famed figure, said to bring prosperity beyond imagining to this coast. He knew that Mollymauk received offerings from their city’s denizens, usually in the form of choice consumables. They were known to be partial to ripe fruits, top-grade meats, aged wines and liquors, and even narcotics. A hedonist. Caleb could offer no such thing, having nothing to his name now besides his books.What could he possibly offer to such a god?
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 22
Kudos: 216
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

The door closed behind Caleb with a thud that reverberated around the cavernous marble throne room. A red carpet trimmed with gold ran the length of the chamber, leading up to a dais that contained a single throne with a single occupant.

Caleb had not meant to stop in this coastal city-state, but his dwindling supplies had forced him to divert his path. One wrong move when attempting to pocket some food from a stall in the central bazaar and here he was, being thrust by guards before the city’s protector for judgment. Its _god._

With leaden feet and trembling hands, he stepped forward and began traversing the long hall. Carved columns of pale grey marble streaked with gold supported the ornate ceiling, and as he passed them Caleb could see statues and paintings in between. He did not turn his head to take in the detail, moving forward robotically. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades both from stress and from the heat of the coast, too hot for the threadbare coat he wore. As the dais grew closer, his vision tunneled.

As he approached the throne, the figure sitting upon it did not look up. They were draped over it artfully, one leg over the chair’s arm and a tapered tail over the other. Gold and gems glittered from every limb and dangled from their ears and their long, curling horns. The patron god of this city-state took the form of a tiefling, it seemed, with lavender skin and ethereal beauty.

“I am your god,” called the figure, still not looking up from their inspection of their fingernails. Everything about their voice and demeanor projected an air of boredom.

“Long may you reign,” Caleb answered. He may not be from this city-state, but he was a student of history and knew of its protector. Mollymauk was a famed figure, said to bring prosperity beyond imagining to this coast. From what Caleb had seen it was true: the markets here overflowed with plump fruit and rich wine, fine silks and bright dyes. The city seemed to have no poverty, except of course for himself. Perhaps it was why he had stuck out enough to get caught.

At his voice, the god raised their gaze with a curious tilt to their brow. “And what have we here?” they mused, straightening up and twisting to sit forward in their throne. “I’ve not seen you before. Why have you been brought to me for an audience?” They leaned forward on one hand, appraising Caleb. Their eyes were a solid blood red, unreadable, but Caleb could feel the intensity of their gaze and he shivered.

He considered lying, but from what he remembered reading of Mollymauk — which was everything he’d read on them, really — they could see through falsehoods more easily than a mortal could see through glass. Under the scrutiny of their gaze he folded inward, bowing his head in subjugation. Should he kneel? Or bow? Ack— but he’d been asked a question. Caleb took a shuddering breath and composed himself, just barely able to find his voice.

“I, ah, was caught stealing.” What was the proper way to address a god? Was there a traditional honorific? His books had not said, being secondary or tertiary sources at best. Scrambling to not seem insolent when his judgment was imminent, Caleb quickly added a “your radiance.” That seemed to amuse Mollymauk, the edges of their mouth twitching upward into a small smirk.

“Hungry, were you?” they asked, and Caleb knew they could tell at a glance. He was, to put it mildly, gaunt. His cheekbones were too sharp on his face, and even the coat he wore and the draping linen of his tunic could not disguise his thinness. It still showed where his trousers fastened at his waist, and at his wrists. He nodded solemnly, staring at a point on the carpet where a mandala spiraled to a center. Mollymauk laughed, and the sound rang like silver chimes around the room.

“You needed only ask for food,” they chided. “I ensure that everyone under my protection is fed, as well as housed and clothed. Here—” Caleb barely had time to react as a bread roll was tossed to him from Mollymauk’s own platter. He caught it with both hands against his stomach, fumbling so as to not drop it. He stared for a moment, unbelieving of what was happening.

“Go on, eat it. Gods know you need it.” Mollymauk waved a hand at him, a bit haughty, but encouraging. Looking down at the roll again, Caleb lifted it to his mouth.

It was a flaky roll, and when he took a bite the tangy flavor of a soft cheese spread on his tongue. Unable to control himself, a groan escaped his throat as the flavor permeated his mouth. He ate the rest in two bites, barely noticing his surroundings until Mollymauk spoke again.

“Nothing but the best for me,” they sang, and when he looked at them again their face was split in a grin. Their tail flicked to and fro behind their crossed legs, controlled but mischievous.

Remembering his manners, Caleb bowed his head again. “Thank you,” he said carefully, still unsure of how this would go. He had been expecting a punishment, a prison cell, not this kindness.

“Now, why don’t we get you cleaned up and ready for dinner?”

“I— err, _Was?”_ Caleb sputtered, incredulous.

“Well, I can’t just send you off in those ratty clothes with a mostly-empty stomach, can I? I have a reputation to uphold.” Their tone was bright, playful, and their eyes were still maddeningly unreadable. “First a bath, and some new attire, then food and conversation. We can discuss how to make sure you never end up here—” they waved a hand about, first around the room, then at Caleb, “—ever again. As the protector of this city, it’s my duty to make sure none of my wards go without.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “And what must I offer in return?”

Mollymauk’s eyes gleamed as they stood from their throne. “That, my dear, is part of the aforementioned _conversation.”_ With a clap of their hands the doors behind Caleb opened — a simple enchantment, most likely — and he was escorted through the halls of the palace to a guest chambers.

  
  


A steaming bath was drawn for him and Caleb was left alone in the bathroom with a dizzying assortment of soaps and ointments. Resigning himself to his fate, he removed his clothes and slipped into the water, dunking his head immediately. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, then get back out to the streets and away from that scrutinous gaze. Coming to this city had been a mistake, not that he could have known before he got here. It was simply far too prosperous for him to fade into the background as he preferred.

The sound of his splashing must have been loud enough to alert the servant who stood outside, because moment Caleb reached for a bar of soap the door opened. He scrambled to turn his back, swearing under his breath, but the servant didn’t flinch. They collected his clothes and boots from the floor, placing them in a basket and leaving without a word.

It was a good thing he’d put his books on a table, he thought, grimacing at the loss of his coat full of arcane components. But those were replaceable, mostly odds and ends that he could collect without cost. His books were precious, worth more than every other item he owned combined by far, and the result of countless hours of study and transcription. Not daring to let them out of his sight, he fumbled for the soap and scrubbed the sweat and grime from his body as quickly as he could, greying the bathwater more than he’d care to admit.

Once clean, he dried off with what had to be the world’s plushest towel and moved to inspect himself in the mirror. It had been a long time since he had seen his own reflection, and the sight of the hollows around his eyes caused him to draw a sharp breath. Even clean he looked wild, his beard unkempt and long. When had he last shaved?

Looking around the room, he found a straight razor and shaving brush, as well as a small pair of silver shears. It didn’t take long to trim the hair down, and once it was short enough to lay flat against his face, Caleb found that he rather didn’t mind it. He decided on just the trim, and quickly shaved away the scruff on his neck and cheeks. When finished, he looked halfway civilized. Not what he normally aimed for, but hopefully it would help him slip under the radar here. It would grow back quickly.

His clothes did not reappear while he groomed, nor did he expect them to. Something told him that he would never see that threadbare coat or stained shirt again. Sighing, he lifted the top garment from the pile that had been left at the vanity, letting it unfold under its own weight.

A navy blue silk tunic unfurled between his fingers, embroidered with fine gold stitching that spoke of wealth beyond anything Caleb had touched in his entire life. How he had ended up here was beyond his comprehension in his exhausted state, but he slipped the shirt on and began to tie up the fastenings. The neck hole was much larger than he would have preferred, and even when tied as far as it would go a small patch of his chest hair was visible in the vee.

He donned the trousers next, a pair of tight black leggings that seemed to shimmer slightly in the light. The outfit was far too fancy for him, but as they say, beggars cannot be choosers. And a literal beggar he was, having spent many an afternoon sitting about with a cup in hand to ask passersby for coppers. He fastened the buttons at the fly of the trousers and bent to take the boots, jumping slightly as his lower back was brushed by a flow of cool air.

Caleb twisted to inspect the trousers, and found a flap with a hidden clasp right at the base of his spine. A _tail hole._ These were _Mollymauk’s own clothes._ The boots in his hands clattered to the tiles, and his face grew hot.

A muffled voice came through the bathroom door. “Sir? Are you finished?”

Caleb snatched the boots up quickly, blush spreading as the puff of air hit him again. _“Nein—_ no! A moment!” He practically jumped into the boots, which fit him well, and tied them up to the knee. If this was really all from Mollymauk’s own closet, he supposed he was lucky that he had not ended up with a pair of thigh-high boots like the ones the god had been wearing.

Once fully dressed and with his books strapped under his arms, Caleb was lead through the winding halls of the palace once more. His mind was churning with anticipation, and he barely took note of the path on which he was being led as he ran through the possibilities of what might come to pass. He knew that Mollymauk received offerings from their city’s denizens, usually in the form of choice consumables. They were known to be partial to ripe fruits, top-grade meats, aged wines and liquors, and even narcotics. A hedonist. Caleb could offer no such thing, having nothing to his name now besides his books. Perhaps he could offer his services as a wizard, but Mollymauk’s own powers as a god certainly must outstrip his own abilities.

He worried over the problem until a door closed behind him with a dull thud that pulled him back to reality. He was alone in a room with a table for two to one side, and a small lounge to the other. The large windows were open to let in the breeze, and overlooked the sea. The sun was beginning to get low on the horizon, painting the scene in a beautiful peach light that would certainly culminate in a beautiful sunset.

The table was set with crystal glasses and fine silverware that reflected the light of the gently flickering candles there. It was an intimate setting, and Caleb gulped as he took it in. For some reason, he had been expecting to join a dinner in a hall with many people, at the foot of the table. To share a private meal with a god, it was an honor he was certain he didn’t deserve. Unable to decide whether he should sit at the table or perch himself on a chaise longue while he waited, he hovered awkwardly by the door.

A door by the lounge that Caleb had not seen opened and Mollymauk strode into the room with confidence. Spotting Caleb by the wall, they beckoned to him and gave him a friendly smile. “Come now, sit. No need to be afraid.” They pulled out a chair and waited expectantly, so Caleb shuffled over and sat carefully as the chair was tucked under him. It felt so wrong, to be waited upon by such a powerful being. Mollymauk seemed not to mind, striding to their own side of the table with casual grace and dropping into the chair. They grabbed a bottle of wine — Caleb was afraid to look at the vintage — and began to pour the dark red liquid into Caleb’s glass.

“So,” they started sharply as the wine poured. “I do believe we’ve forgotten to introduce ourselves. What’s your name?” They finished pouring with an expert twist of their wrist as the glass reached fullness, not spilling a drop. Caleb gulped. It was a lot of wine. More than was normally socially acceptable to pour into a wine glass, and his tolerance was shot from years of not being able to afford alcohol. He drummed his fingers against the glass’s stem as Mollymauk began to pour their own glass of wine.

“Caleb Widogast,” he said simply, feeling dumb in Mollymauk’s presence.

“Not from around here, are you, Caleb?” they asked, eyes not deviating from the careful pouring of wine.

“Err, no…” Caleb admitted, though he supposed it was obvious. In hindsight, the question was rhetorical, and he mentally smacked himself for his stupidity. He had been taught better social skills than this in his days at school, but those skills had festered from lack of use. If there was ever a time he wished that he hadn’t let the skill of conversation rust, it was now.

Mollymauk settled the bottle of wine at the side of the table and grabbed their glass, lifting it to their lips. It was then that Caleb noticed the small difference in them between the throne room and now: while before their lips had been the same shade of lavender as their skin, they were now painted a rich red. Blood rushed to his cheeks at the sight, and the thought that they had thought to apply the makeup for this occasion. His flush must have been visible even in the dim light, because the corners of Mollymauk’s mouth quirked upward as they sipped.

Their glass lowered back to the table, and Caleb realized that he ought to partake if he wanted to be polite. He carefully lifted his own glass, careful not to spill, and took a sip. He had no palate for wine, having existed mostly on the cheap swill that passed for ale at a few coppers a glass, but even he could tell that this was a fine wine. He appreciated it and tried not to think about how Mollymauk was watching him drink, tail sometimes flicking into view in the corner of his vision.

“So, do you know who I am, Caleb?” they asked, tone flat. It sounded to Caleb like they were fishing for something, and the way they said his name put a knot in his stomach.

“You are the patron god of this city,” he worded carefully, gauging their reaction. “The one they call Mollymauk.”

That seemed to please them, their lips spreading in a smile as they leaned over the table.

“Clever boy.” A jolt of electricity shot down Caleb’s spine, and he jumped as a door opened behind Mollymauk and a servant entered with a tray of food.

They were quiet as the servant tabled the dishes, which were composed of over a dozen small bowls of assorted things. There were olives, herb salads, meatballs, stuffed leaves, flatbreads, dips, and more. A dizzying amount of food. Caleb didn’t know where to start.

Mollymauk reached for an olive and popped it into their mouth, drawing Caleb’s attention once again to their red lips. Supposing that it was the best way to pretend that he knew the etiquette for this kind of food, he mirrored their movement and took an olive.

“Tell me, Caleb, how did an arcanist such as yourself find yourself stealing to survive in my city?” _My city._ Mollymauk’s tone betrayed a touch of possessiveness, or perhaps pride. Caleb was surprised that they had know him to be a mage, but then he remembered that he was now wearing his books openly without his coat shielding them from view as it normally did. Realizing that it might be considered rude to wear them at the table, he unbuckled the strap of the harness and slipped it off.

Where to start? And how to not offend them? Stalling for a moment with another sip of wine, Caleb decided that honesty was probably the best policy when in the presence of a god. But then, they had not called him on his falsehood when he had introduced himself as ‘Caleb’ instead of his true name. Perhaps they were not so omniscient as the books said?

He decided to hedge his bets and try a half truth, just to see what happened. Caleb had always been a good liar when he needed to be.

“I have been running from city-state to city-state for many years. There are people who would probably rather see me dead, and it is easy to be invisible as a beggar. I picked up the arcane along the way.”

It was true enough, more of a lie by omission, but nonetheless he mentally braced himself for Mollymauk’s wrath. When it didn’t come, he had to be carefully not to give away his relief, reaching for a scoop of the herb salad to try to retain a casual air.

“Only the blind would think you’re invisible. You can’t hide that radiance, no matter how much dirt you layer over it.”

Caleb nearly choked on his salad, and he had to take another sip of wine to clear his throat. Gods, why was there no water on the table? His head was already spinning from the alcohol, and he was sure his face was red from it and the compliments combined. Mollymauk leered at him as they sampled more food, brows arced in a way that felt almost predatory.

“So you know a bit about me, it seems,” they said, redirecting the conversation. “What else do you know? You mentioned your _offerings_ in the throne room.” They leaned back in their chair and sipped at their wine, somehow not at all tipsy despite having drank much more than Caleb.

Caleb tried to blink through the fog of the alcohol in his brain, reaching for his memories of books about the gods of the coast. “You are said to be a most benevolent god, lavishing your city in riches despite not taking much in the way of offerings from most of its people. But the offerings you do take are said to be among the finest of things.”

Mollymauk practically licked their lips, delight clear on their face. “Yes, I do love to sample the finer things in life,” they said, tail flicking into view to curl and twist. Caleb felt pinned down by their gaze, and he froze in place until the spell was broken when they spoke again.

“But I don’t really ask all that much of the common folk. A little tribute when they’re able. Just enough to sate my hunger. The nobles, though, they pay most handsomely for my protection. Not like they need the wealth, anyway.” Mollymauk leaned back in their chair, one arm draped over its back, and sipped at their wine. Their shirt fell open to reveal more of the tattooed feathers that Caleb had spotted on the side of their face and neck, which appeared to continue trailing down their torso… Caleb’s breath froze in his lungs.

 _Scars._ Mollymauk had scars. Dozens of them, crisscrossing their chest, faint lines that Caleb was only able to see because of the flicker of the candlelight.

Gods didn’t have scars. Their divinity ensured their perfection. Any wound they suffered would heal as if it had never been inflicted, leaving their skin as unmarked as a fresh sheet of parchment. Mollymauk was watching him, and Caleb had to force himself to tear his eyes away. Their own gaze glimmered at him from over the rim of their glass, daring.

“And what do you provide in return for these gifts?” he broached carefully, gauging their reactions. The gleam in their eyes did not cease as they moved to answer.

“For the nobles? Absolutely nothing.” Their laugh rang in the air with a hint of disdain. “But like I said, they don’t need it. They’re doing fine on their own. For the rest, well, I provide everything. I ensure homes are built and distributed, roads are maintained, food is abundant. Did you know that this was the first city to get running water? And we’re the only one to provide it to all.”

Caleb was certainly familiar with the famous aqueducts that brought fresh water down from the mountain reservoirs, though he had not known that Mollymauk’s city was so generous with the commodity. Running water was normally seen as a luxury for the rich, while the poor were left to scoop up contaminated river water or to walk far with buckets to fight for a spot at a well.

“But no… _divine_ gifts?” he intoned warily. Mollymauk chuckled.

“You’re a clever man, why don’t you tell me what you think?”

They were challenging him, to be sure. They had bared their scars, hinted at their lack of power. They seemed to _want_ him to call them on their lack of divinity. Caleb knew that they were not strictly mortal, appearing youthful despite have presided over this city-state for most of recorded history, but he was also certain now that their godhood was a façade. But he wasn’t sure that they wanted him to call them on it outright: they seemed to enjoy wordplay and flattery. So he quickly composed his thoughts into something more playful than accusative.

“I think… that this region provides all the bounty its people need, between the fertile soil and the waters teeming with life.” He just barely caught a pleased curl of their tail above the table before it flicked out of view again. “I think that the prosperity you are said to have brought comes from your governance, not from any divine power. I think that you have tricked these people—” Mollymauk’s eyes narrowed slightly at the implication, and Caleb quickly added “—and they are better off for it.”

Mollymauk could barely contain their delight as they dabbed at their mouth with a napkin, using the fabric to hide their grin. “You _are_ a clever man,” they said, standing from the table and stepping forward to stand in Caleb’s personal space. “But god or not, I do like it when people show appreciation for my hospitality. Is there anything you’d like to do to show your appreciation, Caleb?”

Caleb’s throat went dry as Mollymauk loomed over him. Their shirt hung open at this angle, showing off an expanse of toned chest and belly that were marked with bright inks and revealing more fine scars. A fire lit in Caleb’s belly as he drank in the sight, slowly tracking his eyes up the plane of Mollymauk’s chest to their face. Their red eyes gleamed at him in the candlelight, and the tip of their tongue darted out to wet their lips for a fraction of a second.

“I… I think there is something I can offer,” he whispered, tilting his chin up to them.

They grinned, catlike, before leaning down to take him in a kiss. Their hand was hot under his chin and their lips tasted like wine, and Caleb’s muscles collectively lost connection to his brain for a moment when Mollymauk’s tongue pushed into his mouth. He melted into the chair, trying to focus on the feeling of the hard wood pressing into his back to keep him in reality.

Eventually, Mollymauk pulled back and he could breathe again. It was difficult, with his brain burning for oxygen, and he was embarrassed at how easily he had been dissolved into a panting mess.

“And what a fine offering it is,” Mollymauk teased, and pulled him to his feet. “Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

Caleb couldn’t speak, all of his words having fled the moment his blood started rushing elsewhere. Instead, he gazed up at them with a look he hoped said _please,_ and slotted himself against their chest to graze at their neck. He could feel their chuckle beneath his lips, and he gasped as they scooped him up under his hips. The world spun as the floor fell away, and he had to wrap his arms around their neck to steady himself as he was carried to one of the plush sofas.

Mollymauk placed him back on the ground gently, making sure he was steady before letting go. They quirked an eyebrow, challenging him silently. Caleb looked at the lounge over his shoulder but stood defiant, tilting his chin up slightly at them. Amusement danced in their eyes, and they placed a hand on Caleb’s chest, giving him a moment to react before pushing him firmly toward the couch.

Caleb didn’t stand a chance at staying upright, between the wine and the haze of arousal. He fell back and landed with a soft huff as air escaped his lungs at the impact, barely able to catch his breath before Mollymauk was on top of him. They boxed him in with a hand over each shoulder and a leg between his knees before leaning in to kiss him again, and Caleb squeezed his thighs together as he squirmed beneath them.

When Mollymauk pulled back for air, Caleb was struck again by the deep red of their lips. Lips that shone from his kisses, full and beautiful. His own mouth was sticky, so he wiped at it with the back of a hand. The hand came away red with Mollymauk’s lipstick, and he stared at the vivid color against his pale skin as his arousal surged. He wanted that red _everywhere,_ and suddenly his clothes felt too constricting despite their softness. Mollymauk was grinning salaciously over him, watching his every reaction, and Caleb scrambled to sit up.

“Off,” he commanded as he tugged at the loose silk of Mollymauk’s shirt. The hem slipped free of their trousers to hang freely.

“Gladly,” they breathed as they pulled the ties of Caleb’s own shirt loose, then they moved to shuck their shirt in one fluid motion. Caleb pulled them down to sit on the couch, then straddled their lap and began exploring the beautiful expanse of tattoos that trailed down the side of their neck, kissing each feather and moving down. While he explored, they untucked his shirt, sliding their hand underneath to run their fingers through the soft red hair on his chest.

Caleb gasped as they trailed their hand downward, gently dragging their nails along his skin. His mouth left their skin as he arced back at the touch, and Mollymauk took advantage of the separation to lift Caleb’s own shirt over his head and throw it to the floor. Now bared, Caleb looked down from his vantage above them to find them drinking in the sight of him, lips parted slightly with awe.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” they said as they walked their fingers along some of his more prominent freckles. Before Caleb could protest the statement, they leaned in to suck a nipple into their mouth. Caleb’s words turned into a shuddering moan as they licked at the sensitive spot, hands roaming over his hips and the top of his backside. He squirmed under their touch, the sensation being both overwhelming and not enough at the same time, and Mollymauk hummed with contentment against his chest.

When they withdrew, there was a soft red mark around Caleb’s nipple where their lips had been. He eyed the mark with glee and Mollymauk seemed to pick up on his appreciation of the mark, because they learned in to press another to the hollow of his neck. Caleb ran his hands through their hair, the waves parting beneath his fingers easily and overwhelming him with silky sensation. Scooting forward in their lap, Caleb squirmed again and was rewarded with a soft moan. Mollymauk’s hands slid down to cup his ass in earnest, massaging each cheek with the pads of their fingers.

“Gods, I need these off,” they groaned when Caleb moved his hips again, and they reached around to fumble with the clasp on the back of their trousers. Caleb slid off of their lap, allowing them the freedom they needed to remove the garment, and huffed with amusement when he noticed that they had changed out of the tall boots they had worn earlier in favor of something easy to remove. “Shut up,” they laughed as they kicked the low boots off and shimmied out of their trousers before leaning in to loom over him again, now fully nude.

“May I?” they asked, one hand hovering over the fly of Caleb’s borrowed trousers.

“ _Götter,_ yes, please Mollymauk,” Caleb whined beneath them, achingly hard in the taught fabric. Mollymauk skillfully opened the buttons with one hand, relieving the worst of the pressure. They leered over him as his cock was revealed, reaching out to give it a quick tug before starting on the laces of his boots. Caleb gasped at the fleeting contact, catching his breath as Mollymauk divested him of his footwear and, eventually, trousers.

With Mollymauk standing before him, Caleb could think of no other thing to do than to sink to his knees before them and nuzzle at their toned thighs. Unlike their upper half, the skin here bore no ink, just a few scars. Caleb kissed one starburst of scar tissue that looked like an arrow wound. He had a few himself, and knew just how much they hurt. He kissed at the scars on one leg, then the other, hands roaming down the backs of their thighs with a firm grip. He could feel the matching starburst scar on the back of their leg, where the arrow had gone through.

When Mollymauk was panting audibly, Caleb looked up at them. Their expression was divine: composure gone, they were lost to sensation. Their eyes fluttered open to look down on him, and a hand carded through his hair. No words were needed, their gaze was pleading enough for Caleb to return his attention below.

He licked a stripe up the underside of their cock before taking the tip into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. Mollymauk was vocal, gasping and hissing before moaning loudly when Caleb took them in his mouth. Caleb quickly lost himself in the moment, listening for feedback about what Mollymauk liked and adjusting his actions accordingly. All his thoughts melted away as he focused on the task at hand, pleasing Mollymauk with his mouth. Some time later their thighs began to shake and they gently tugged at his hair to guide his head away before they collapsed to the couch.

“You have a talent,” they panted, one arm draped over their eyes. “But I don’t want to be done just yet.” Their arm slid from their face to the couch cushion beside them, and they patted it. “Come on, up with you. Your knees must be in agony.”

Caleb stood, and his knees groaned with protest as they moved. Still, it would have been worse if not for the plush rug. He dropped to the couch beside them and was thankful for the change in position as the circulation restarted in his legs. Mollymauk turned to nibble at Caleb’s neck as they took him in hand and started stroking him with leisurely movements. Caleb shuddered at their touch, both from the sensation and the relative coldness of the room now that their bodies weren’t touching quite as much.

“My apologies,” they said when they noticed Caleb’s gooseflesh. “I quite forgot about the windows.” And with a flick of their wrist, all the windows in the room slammed shut. Then they moved to straddle his lap and wrap their arms about his shoulders, immediately blanketing him with heat. “Now, what do you like, darling? I’m up for nearly anything, myself.” Their tail swished slowly behind them, bumping the insides of Caleb’s knees with each swing and sending little jolts though his legs.

Caleb sputtered, finding it difficult to form words through the pleasant haze that had formed while he knelt at Mollymauk’s feet. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and he felt helpless compared to their easy confidence.

“Cat got your tongue?” they teased, and Caleb couldn’t help but think that they were the cat in this situation. “How about this, I’ll make it easier. You just nod or tap me or something for ‘yes’ and ‘no’.”

That, Caleb could do. Making eye contact again, he nodded, and Mollymauk grinned.

“First things first, do you still want to continue?”

Caleb nodded emphatically, without hesitation, and Mollymauk preened in his lap. “Good boy,” they cooed, and Caleb shivered under the praise, earning a chuckle. “And it seems like you’d like me to take charge, is that right?” Caleb nodded again, shrinking a little under their gaze, and Mollymauk tutted.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, darling. In fact, I enjoy it. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” They traced a finger down Caleb’s jaw, and he turned his head to kiss at their hand.

“Now, do you want me inside of you?” they continued, and Caleb froze mid-kiss. It had been a long time since he had been intimate, and that sounded like a lot. It was something that part of him yearned for, but he wasn’t sure it was something he could handle just now. Sensing his alarm, Mollymauk moved on. “Or would you prefer to be inside of me?”

With Mollymauk already positioned in his lap, Caleb’s heart jumped at the thought. He nodded again and Mollymauk stroked his hair, soothing him.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, darling? We’ll certainly get to that. But first, I need a hand. Literally.” They waved their fingers in front of Caleb’s face, showing off their long painted nails. “And I’d like to repay a favor from earlier.”

They leaned to the side, opening a drawer on a side table and retrieving a small jar. Without difficulty, they moved Caleb into a position they liked on the sofa and perched above him, opening the jar to reveal a semisolid oil. They took one of his hands and dipped his fingers in, coating them in the thick butter that quickly began to melt with the heat of his body, then placed the jar into his other hand. Guiding his slick hand to their backside, they turned to give him better access.

“Now you just focus on this for a moment, dear, and let me take care of you.” Caleb nodded, transfixed by the feeling of their skin under his slick fingers. They were lean, but their bottom was soft and round. He rubbed gently between their cheeks, feeling the texture of the skin there and finding their entrance. With a hand they encouraged him, pushing one finger forward until it slipped into the ring of muscle and eliciting a breathy sigh.

“There we go. Just keep doing that.” Mollymauk leaned forward and began to kiss at Caleb’s thighs as he gently massaged inside them, transfixed by the feeling of their heat pressing around his finger. He pressed in and out with a slow rhythm, feeling for spots that made them jump or gasp. They were just beginning to nuzzle at his cock when he found something, a spot with a different texture that made them sigh.

“Another, please,” they sighed, and took Caleb into their mouth. He couldn’t help but throw his head back against the cushion for a moment as the stars receded from his vision, and when he got his bearings Caleb scooped up a bit more oil and pressed in a second finger. Mollymauk hummed around him, and the vibration pulled a groan from Caleb in turn.

It was languid, almost lazy, their pace. They were relaxed and not rushed, slowly chasing their pleasure while lounging comfortably. Mollymauk did pick up the pace a bit after Caleb’s third finger slipped inside them, and in return Caleb crooked his fingers to rub gently at the spot that made them moan. They shuddered and released his cock to moan wantonly into the air, pulling forward and away from Caleb’s hand. He let them go, hovering his slick hand above his chest.

Mollymauk panted over him and reached for something, coming back with a cloth in hand. “Clever man, clever mouth, clever fingers…” they mused as they delicately wiped the oil from his hand. “I might just have to keep you.”

Caleb shivered at the possessive words, but allowed them to straddle him again. “And what if I do not wish to stay?”

Mollymauk smirked and scooped a bit of oil into their hand, slowly spreading it on Caleb’s cock behind them. “I think I can make it worth your while.” They lifted themself up with their thighs, lining Caleb’s cock up with their ass, then began to sink down. The lights in the room seemed to flare in Caleb’s vision as he was lost to the sensation, squeezed tight by their perfect bottom. They sank down slowly, in no rush to be filled, and when their weight finally settled on Caleb’s hips again he had regained control of himself. He moved his hands to their hips, massaging the skin there in gentle circles.

“Perhaps I can be persuaded,” he shot back between pants, feeling confident in his banter despite the position they held over him. Mollymauk only grinned, revealing a pointed fang over their bottom lip, and leaned down to capture his mouth in a filthy kiss.

Caleb moaned into their mouth as they rolled their hips, the friction sending jolts through his entire body. They kissed him hungrily, barely allowing him to break for air as they gyrated in his lap. It didn’t take Caleb long to unravel, knuckles white as he held onto Mollymauk for dear life.

Mollymauk shifted their weight and leaned back, changing the position of their hips and moaning deeply as they found the right angle. Their eyes fluttered closed as they came undone, hands roaming up to touch their chest. It was like a performance just for Caleb, watching their composure fall away as they lost themself in pleasure, and he released his grip on their hips to join them in the light touching.

Tracing the outline of a nipple earned him a gasp as Mollymauk’s skin broke out in gooseflesh, and pinching the same spot had them throwing their head back in a moan. Caleb let his hands trail downward, tracing the lines of their tattoos and the edges of their muscles until he reached their cock.

“Caleb, please,” they gasped as he traced a finger along the bottom of their cock, and they ground down in his lap firmly. Caleb could tell he wouldn’t last long, not with them moving at this pace, so he ceased the teasing and took them fully in hand. Precome slicked his palm at their tip and his hand glided easily along their length, earning more groans. Mollymauk moved with urgency, and as Caleb’s own climax built he drew theirs forth with a caress of his hand. They surged forward and bit down on Caleb’s shoulder as they came, making spots appear in his vision. Their hips continued to move as they spilled themself on his stomach, and Caleb clenched as his orgasm washed over him moments later.

They collapsed together there, breathing hard for several minutes as they recovered. Caleb softened and slipped from Mollymauk’s ass, and they yelped at the loss. When they finally sat up, Caleb felt like a sticky mess. They were both beaded with sweat from the exertion, and now had come on both their stomachs from where they had been pressed together.

As if reading his mind, Mollymauk looked down and hissed at the mess on their abdomen. “We could use a bath. What do you say, Caleb? Have I been persuasive enough for you to stay the night?”

Still draped across the sofa, boneless, Caleb huffed a dry laugh. “You could say something like that, _ja.”_ With a grin that seemed more genuine than any of those he’d seen earlier that night, Mollymauk offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. They led him through a door to an impressive bedchamber decorated with tapestries and rugs of every color of the rainbow. Something about it was very personal, and it lacked the cold air of pretense that accompanied the decorations in the rest of the palace. It was warm, homey. He took in the sight of a vanity covered in dozens of tiny bottles of colored paints and pads of shimmering kohl, a desk with almost as many colors of ink and many half-finished illustrations strewn about, and a weapons rack with two matching scimitars. He supposed that would explain the scars.

Mollymauk tugged him through to a bathroom with a tub big enough for multiple people recessed into the floor. A tap to a gem at its side filled it immediately with steaming water, and they took a jar of salts from a shelf and upended the entire thing into the tub, filling the air with fragrant steam. They slid into the water with a groan of pleasure, immediately relaxing against the side and tipping their head back until their horns clicked against the tiles. Caleb carefully lowered himself in after them with shaky legs, still not recovered from the force of his orgasm, and wiped the come and sweat from his skin.

“Will you really stay the night?” they asked from the far side of the tub, and Caleb realized that they had been watching him. He flushed a bit at the attention, confidence gone now that his arousal had abated.

“ _Ja,_ if you wish. But I understand if you do not want to spend time with a lowly vagrant like myself.”

Their brow creased at that, forming a line that looked entirely out of place on their beautiful face. “Nonsense, Caleb, you are exceedingly interesting. I’d like to get to know you, if you’d let me.” They moved so that they were sitting by Caleb’s side and slunk a hand around his waist. “I don’t let this masquerade down for just anyone, you know.”

Caleb ran his fingers over their chest, taking in the multitude of scars there, considering. “I will stay—” he said, raising a finger when Mollymauk’s excitement was apparent “—for the night. From there, we shall see.”

Mollymauk practically purred against his side, snaking their tail through the water to coil around his leg. “Does that mean I can try to persuade you again in the morning?” Their voice dripped with innuendo, and Caleb couldn’t help but kiss the insolence from their face.

“You can certainly try.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I just couldn't let this story go without finding out what happened to them after their first encounter. So here's another several thousand words of story, smut, and feelings. This one's really soft. Enjoy!

Caleb departed Mollymauk’s estate a few weeks later with a satchel full of gold and supplies. Mollymauk was loathe to let him go, but relented when he insisted that he had goals to fulfill elsewhere, and bid him goodbye with a kiss and a pat on the ass as he turned to go. Under his new clothes, his body still bore the many marks of their time together. Every step he took on the road sent him a sharp reminder as the leather straps of his satchel dug into the bruises on his shoulders.

They had been very generous with what they’d given him, Caleb found when he stopped to make camp the first night. The clothes had all been tailor made for him of the sturdiest fabrics, and though Mollymauk had a penchant for bright colors and patterns, the clothes were all in the muted shades of brown, green, and grey that Caleb preferred. A coinpurse containing gold was near the top of the bag, but as Caleb dug down he found a smaller one with a handful of platinum coins. He froze when he opened it, never having touched such wealth in his life, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of guilt. He hadn’t done anything to deserve such a thing, no matter how much Mollymauk had insisted.

He started a fire with some deadfall and a cantrip, then rolled out the brand new bedroll that Mollymauk had provided. It was thick and warm despite the warm climate of the region: another mark of Mollymauk’s attention to detail, as Caleb had told them that he would be heading into colder regions. He prepared a meager meal of some of the rations he’d been provided, then settled down for bed in the darkness.

Pulling aside the cover on his bedroll revealed a slip of paper tucked between the layers, a thick card inscribed with Mollymauk’s practiced penmanship. The tiefling was an enigma: perhaps ancient in age, highly knowledgeable, and with beautiful calligraphy, but they could barely read or write. Caleb had discovered it when he’d noticed that they didn’t have a single book in their apartments except for one on tarot that resided on their desk, from which they copied the spellings for their intricate handmade cards.

Sending some globules of light to float in the air above him, Caleb picked up the card and read it. Mollymauk’s careful writing made up a short inscription that covered only the top of the paper.

_Wenever you get lonely, you are allways welcom._

Instinctively, Caleb flipped the card, and when he did he took a sharp breath. It contained an image, impossibly realistic despite the lack of color, of the two of them abed. Mollymauk was awake and entirely undressed, modesty only preserved by the framing of the image, with Caleb curled asleep in their arms. The soft smile on their face was incredibly endearing, and in the soft light their more-than-mortal beauty was evident.

It took Caleb a moment to realize that tears had formed at the corners of his eyes, and he wiped them away with a sleeve before stowing the gift between the pages of his spellbook where it would be safe. Truth be told, he’d been loathe to leave, but he knew that he had to. There were still things undone in this world that he could trust no other to do than himself. But that night, still within eyeshot of Mollymauk’s city-state, he vowed that he would one day return.

* * *

Years passed as Caleb worked toward his goals. He met a goblin woman on the road and they became fast friends, using their combined cunning to survive in the cruel world of the empire in which they’d met. Caleb collected knowledge where he could, eventually befriending a monk of the Cobalt Soul and securing access to their library. It was a blessing; there was more knowledge contained there than he’d ever hoped to see in his wildest dreams.

His goblin friend confessed to him that she had once been a halfling, and Caleb dropped everything to help her. She had risked life and limb for him more than once, after all, and transmutation was his specialty. It was the least he could do. They worked together for nigh on a year to complete the equations, and once returned to her true form she returned to her family. Though Caleb felt her absence when she went, he couldn’t begrudge her that. She lived close to the center of the empire anyway, and he could visit any time he wanted.

It wasn’t much later that the expansion began. Without warning, the empire moved its forces south and began to sweep the coast, conquering the city-states there one at a time and adding their riches to the empire’s own. Every day that Caleb woke, the town criers had something new to say: declaring a new city-state under siege or some ruler dead. Dread built in Caleb as the empire drew nearer to Mollymauk’s home, and he prayed every night that they would flee. But in his heart, he knew them better. They were devoted to the safety of their people, and wouldn’t ever abandon them.

Mollymauk’s city-state was one of the longest to hold, falling only after its patron god — _Mollymauk,_ Caleb’s heart cried — challenged the general of the army to single combat. Though they bested the general, the whispers said, they were deceived, and slain by the commanders of the battalion. Without its patron and leader, the city surrendered the next day.

Caleb wept until no more tears would come, then packed and left that night. There was only one thing on his mind now: time. How there was not enough of it, and how he’d squandered it, and how if only he could just turn it back… He walked north to the forest, where the empire would never look to bother him, as they’d already expanded their border right to the frigid water of the northern coast. He chose a place at random, finding an area with a good supply of granite stone, and set about building his solitary refuge.

The stone tower sprang from the ground at his command, granite forming into great blocks as his mind willed it. It stood tall among the pines; resolute, whereas they swayed in the winds. The sound was calming, a whispering that could almost feel like it held hidden voices at times. Caleb curled up in his barren tower and slept fitfully, clutching the image that Mollymauk had left for him. The only indication he had left that assured him they had ever really existed.

Slowly, Caleb filled his tower with wooden furnishings formed from the surrounding trees by his magic. The chambers always felt cold and empty no matter how much he stoked the hearth, coming to life only when a rare visitor graced his halls.

His research hit a wall, and Caleb almost gave up hope. He continued each day only thanks to the image framed on his desk: Mollymauk’s fond smile immortalized on paper by some magic he’d never taken the time to fully understand. His heart tore a little every time he looked at it, still consumed by the guilt that he’d never returned, but seeing that soft smile always spurred him to work harder, to try to approach an equation from another angle, to do something, _anything_ to bring them back.

One evening after two days of failed experiments and mathematical dead ends, Caleb fell asleep at his desk upon a sea of paper. He hadn’t slept since he’d started pursuing this particular thread nearly forty hours previous, and the hopelessness at his failure combined with the exhaustion overtook him. The image of Mollymauk smiled at him as it always did from its frame, and he drifted off while the winds whipped up and the rain blew in outside.

A heavy knock at the front door woke him some hours later, when the winds howled and the rains pounded in the height of a storm. Shivering, Caleb willed the fire larger and sent an arcane servant to answer the door, scrambling to awaken fully before he met the guest. He ran a hand through his hair to remove the worst of the tangles, though its neglect was still apparent, and moved toward the stairs.

A voice echoed up through the tower’s atrium as Caleb descended the stairs, likely the guest speaking to the spectral cat who had opened the door. The voice had a familiar lilt that tugged at Caleb’s heartstrings, though he rationalized that it could belong to any number of strangers.

“Hello! I take it your master is an arcanist, then? I’m looking for refuge for the night, and though I have no coin, there are many services that I can offer as a humble bard. Oh!”

Caleb’s feet descended into view and the guest reacted to his presence, launching into their spiel from the start as he continued to descend. When he reached a point on the stair where he could see them, they were swept low into a bow, revealing a lute on their back and swords at their hips. Caleb froze on the stair when he saw them, grabbing at the banister with a white-knuckled grip.

Everything about the bard was familiar: their voice, the tone of their skin, the curl of their horns. But no: it could not possibly be them. They were dead, struck down by the forces of an empire that decided that the gods were no longer fit to rule the coast.

“My name is Lucien the Lyrical,” the bard said as they stood from their bow with a flourish, freezing when they saw Caleb. There was a moment where the rain outside was the only sound, still dripping in through the open door. Then the spell was broken as the bard let out a choking sound.

“Sehanine’s grace, Caleb, is that y—”

Caleb nearly fell from the stairs in his rush to cross the room to Mollymauk. Mollymauk: alive and well despite everything he’d heard, against all odds. His arms closed around them and they were real and solid, sensory input from his body conflicting with information in his brain, but he shoved the logic away and lost himself in sensation. They were here, they were solid, and they were warm. Caleb choked out a sob.

“Mollymauk,” he cried into their shoulder, and they held him tight around the waist. They were dripping with rain and Caleb’s clothes were getting wet, but he couldn’t find the energy to care. He was vaguely aware of them speaking and stroking his hair, but with all the pent-up emotions flowing now, he couldn’t summon the awareness to understand. At some point his knees gave out and they slid to the floor, but Caleb only noticed when Mollymauk moved away to close the door and hang their pack on a hook.

It felt like he blinked and they were upstairs, Mollymauk gently placing him in his bed and pulling the covers over him before snuffing the candles. Caleb’s limbs felt like lead, and though he tried his hardest to sit up to watch them, he ultimately collapsed back to the mattress, exhausted. The last thing he remembered before sleep took him was trying to say their name again, but the syllables got all mixed up in his mouth and the word came out as a slurred grunt instead.

That night Caleb dreamed that Mollymauk was with him, though that was not unusual for him. He often dreamed of their sunny halls on the coast, filled with vivid tapestries and works of art and as much fruit and wine as one could consume. Sometimes he dreamed of their conversations, warped by the surrealness of the dreamscape, or of sex. Sometimes he dreamed about losing them, whether they just disappeared, were taken by an enemy, or consumed by flames. Those nights were the worst. Caleb usually had trouble focusing those days, consumed by a lingering anxiety that led his thoughts astray.

This was one of the better dreams, one filled with togetherness and warmth. He dreamed that they reclined on a settee, Caleb reading while Mollymauk embroidered in his lap. It was one of the ways they’d passed the time together during their shared time, and Caleb had loved the domesticity. He reached up to stroke Mollymauk’s hair, but they turned to smoke at his touch and Caleb woke with a start.

He was in his room in his tower, laying on his side and facing the window. Mollymauk had been a dream, and the coastal estate as well. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut against the light, trying to cling to the last images of Mollymauk that his mind had conjured for him. Slowly, the sleep faded from his mind and he blinked to awareness.

He couldn’t remember going to bed that night, but he must have been exhausted if he fell asleep still wearing his coat. The rough wool tweed collar scratched against his facial hair as he stirred and tried to wake his limbs. There was a chill in the air, so Caleb moved to flick a fire bolt into the grate, hoping to relight the previous night’s leftover fuel without having to get up. Whatever had happened the night before had left him so drained that he didn’t want to get up just yet.

That was more common as of late, if he were being honest. One thing that his perfect memory ensured was that he was hyperaware of just how much he’d been slipping lately, staying in bed later and later and relying on his arcane servants for more and more mundane tasks as the days went by. It guilted him, though nothing could ever compare to his past transgressions. At this point he had just decided to accept the decline, slowly losing hope that he could every achieve his lofty goal of fixing his greatest regret.

He lifted his free arm to make the gesture for a fire bolt, mumbling the verbal component about as lazily as he could without losing the spell, only to find his arm restrained. Confused, he tried again, moving with more force this time, but didn’t get much further. He looked down to see his wrist tied with a thin cord. No, not a cord. A _tail._ Caleb stared at it for a full ten seconds before rolling over, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing.

Folllowing the trail of the tail to its owner as he sat up, when he saw Mollymauk it took all of Caleb’s strength to maintain his composure. They were laying propped up against his headboard, arms folded around themself and chin resting on their chest. They were above the covers and the hair on their arms stood on end, skin pimpled with gooseflesh in the cold. Their sturdy traveling clothes were a riot of colour and pattern, trousers complete with mismatched legs like some sort of harlequin. They appeared to have attempted to give Caleb his space in the night, but in sleep their tail had always had a mind of its own.

Biting back tears, Caleb touched their arm. They roused immediately and blinked as they took in the room, red eyes eventually settling on his face and their face breaking into a smile.

“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well? I—”

Their next words died in their throat as Caleb surged up to kiss them, running a hand over their shoulder and arm just to assure himself that they were real. Mollymauk shivered under his touch and brought their hands up to cradle his face, thumbs stroking the soft scruff on his cheeks.

It was an awkward angle, with Caleb leaning over them like this, and when they broke apart Caleb’s arm shook from the exertion of holding him up. He dropped his elbow to the mattress and put his head on their chest, listening to the steady heartbeat that he still couldn’t believe was real.

“How are you alive?” he asked simply, remembering all the stories he’d hear whispered from the front lines. They had all told the same tale: that Mollymauk had been felled after their duel by imperial commanders, then buried in the field in an unmarked grave while the soldiers went on to sack the city.

“It’ll take more than a few mundane swords to kill me.” They smirked and moved aside the collar of their shirt to show a scar that ran vertically along their chest, as well as a few others that Caleb did not recognize. “It’s not the first time I’ve been gravely wounded, nor my longest time in the ground. I do hate the process of waking up, but living is rather worth it.”

Caleb traced the scar with a finger, feeling the bumpy texture of the skin where it intersected with Mollymauk’s self-inflicted scars. A rush of guilt hit him again, thinking about how awful it must have been for them to wake up like that, trapped and choking on earth, and he couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault.

“I am sorry, Mollymauk, I should have co—” Mollymauk put a finger to his lips.

“Now, I’ll hear none of that. The decisions of tyrants aren’t your weight to bear. And please, call me Molly. I haven’t needed the pretense of the full name in years, and even back when I did I wished you would.”

“Molly,” Caleb echoed, sitting up to face them. They didn’t have as much jewelry now as they had back when they’d met in the throne room, but some simple cuffs and charms still adorned their horns. Caleb touched one charm gently, watched the crescent moon swing and spin. “Not going back was my biggest regret. I always thought I would have more time. Since I learned of your death, I have thought about you every day.”

“I know dear, I know,” they soothed, and Caleb noticed then the framed image of the two of them on his nightstand at their side. They must have moved it from his study while he slept. Beside the new scars, they were practically identical to how they had looked those years ago, face still free of lines. Caleb knew that he had not aged as well, limited by his short human lifespan. His poor mental health had not been kind to his body either, resulting in silver streaks in his red hair and a frame that could be considered too thin to be healthy.

Noticing his gaze, Molly gave a soft smile and leaned to fish in the pocket of the coat that was folded over Caleb’s chair. The coat was a maroon thing with foppish sleeves and enough embroidered iconography to potentially be an illicit object in the empire if you encountered the wrong Crownsguard. How Molly had gotten around with it was beyond Caleb.

They withdrew a piece of paper, dog-eared and stained, and showed it to Caleb. It bore the same image as the one in his frame, though the dirt stains had muddled it somewhat. Unlike Caleb’s, it had an inscription on the front, a small heart followed by a name.

♡ _Kaleb_

The image fluttered to the ground as Caleb hauled himself up to sit astride Molly’s lap and kiss them passionately. Hands snaked up his back under his coat to trace along his spine, and Caleb shucked the garment, suddenly feeling suffocated by it. It fell in a heap on the floor somewhere. He didn’t bother to look when he tossed it aside.

Molly pushed forward to bring their back off the headboard and kissed down Caleb’s face to the crook of his neck, leaving his nerves alight in a trail of fire. Spine arcing, he moved forward to slot their torsos together as he pulled at the tie that kept Molly’s hair pulled back in a loose Marquesian braid. The braid unwove to reveal a sea of purple waves that Caleb immediately ran his fingers through, trying to ground himself as Molly rubbed at his thighs and nipped at his collarbone and lower.

Oh, but he wanted that mouth lower. The thin linen of his shirt suddenly felt like an impenetrable barrier, and the fibers itched at his skin. Leaning back, he pulled it up and over his head, gasping when Molly ran a finger over his ribcage.

They frowned. “You need to eat more.”

Caleb’s stomach flopped at the accusation. Molly could not understand how hard it was to live as he had, without hope or happiness for so long. He hadn’t eaten for pleasure in some years, resorting to inventing a sort of arcane boba that would sustain him on days he didn’t have the energy to actually eat. But even then there were times where he forgot, and slowly but surely his body had wasted away.

His reaction was to be flippant, perhaps even a little petty. To distract attention away from his flaws. He nipped at the hand on his shoulder and gave them an insolent look.

“Perhaps you should make me.”

It was nothing they hadn’t played at before, and one of Molly’s favourite games, at that. The flash in their eyes was immediate, and their grin made Caleb’s heart race. There was nothing he wanted more in this moment than to fall into that space where he didn’t have to think. It was something that he hadn’t been able to achieve in years outside of dreams, and the nostalgia of it hit Caleb so strongly that he didn’t even try to resist when Molly flipped them to pin him to the bed. He laid his hands out by his head and watched as they removed their own shirt, baring the beautiful tattoos that Caleb had sketched so many times in the margins of his research notes. He reached up to touch, but Molly caught his wrist and pushed it back down to the sheets.

“Ah, ah. Now you’re going to lay back and relax and let me take care of you, alright?” Caleb nodded earnestly. Molly smiled and draw the back of a finger along his cheek. “Now there’s a good boy.” Caleb’s resulting shiver was more internal than physical, but his nerves came alive as Molly’s words sent a tingle down his spine. Their hands ghosted along his skin, giving him goosebumps and making it difficult to lay back as they had asked.

“You remember what to do if you want to stop?”

Caleb nodded again. “Fire,” he croaked, swallowing around the lump of emotion in his throat. It was overwhelming, just how much he was _feeling,_ after years of barely feeling anything at all. Molly’s fingers danced over his chest, threatening to touch his nipples but redirecting at the last second, and Caleb squirmed under the light touches.

“Good boy,” Molly praised, and Caleb fell deeper into the pleasant haze that buzzed in his head. He snapped his fingers, marveling in how even that sensation felt in this state, and Molly paused.

“Do you want to stop, love, or were you just practicing for if you can’t talk?”

Caleb shook his head from side to side and looked up at Molly, flexing his fingers. Their face remained a little puzzled, probably due to how they’d worded their question.

“Can I get a nod if you want to continue, darling?”

Caleb gave an eager nod and then whined as Molly ran their fingers through his hair, gently scraping his scalp and sending sparks along his skin. “You’re so beautiful with your hair long like this,” they cooed in his ear, breath ghosting over his skin. “My beautiful wizard.”

Tingling from the light touches and craving something more substantial, Caleb pushed his hips upward into the air, not getting far with Molly sitting on his thighs. Their eyes flicked downward with a mischievous glimmer, and they leaned back to look at him from their vantage.

With one hand on his hip, they grabbed at the ties that kept his trousers on his narrow hips. “May I?”

Squirming under them again, Caleb found the energy to form words. “ _Ja, bitte,_ Molly, please.” There was a pulling as the tight laces came undone, then the pressure on Caleb’s thighs disappeared as Molly moved off of him to pull his trousers off.

The loss of the weight left Caleb feeling like he was drifting without an anchor, and he was thankful when Molly was back on top of him, holding him down to Exandria like an anchor. His perception reduced to the points of contact between them and his most sensitive spots, arms seeming to disappear as the buzzing feeling overtook them.

A hand on his cock brought Caleb back to a more present awareness, pulling a moan from him at the first stroke. He was so sensitive, skin overstimulated from all the light foreplay, and the firm hand around him felt like heaven. Molly must have retrieved some oil when they had moved away with his trousers, because their hand slid against him with just the right amount of friction.

It wasn’t long before Caleb was breathing hard and feeling a building pressure in his body. Blood pounded in his ears as his orgasm built, and when he opened his eyes to look at Molly, he saw that their pants were still on. He should have been able to tell from the feeling of the fabric against his legs, but with so much sensory input it had gotten lost before he could process it. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant the hands were off him and Molly was sitting up on their knees, pressure gone from Caleb’s legs. Caleb hated the concern in Molly’s eyes, but couldn’t quite yet form the words to reassure them. He panted for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

“Too fast,” he finally managed, and lifted one leaden arm to point at their ridiculous motley trousers. The tight fabric was tented at the front in a way that could not possibly be comfortable. “Want you, too.”

The relief from Molly was more soothing than anything Caleb could imagine in this moment, their face relaxing as they stepped off the bed to remove their trousers. There were no ties in the front, but they reached behind their back to fiddle with a clasp above their tail before shimmying out of the tight leggings. Their legs were much more toned than Caleb remembered, probably from travel. When they returned to the bed, he let his hands roam all over the expanse of lavender skin, marveling in every sensation.

Molly slipped a leg between his and kissed him, rolling their bodies together in a tangle of limbs. On their sides and with Molly’s hands tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, Caleb pushed his tongue forward and lost himself to sensation.

His hand wandered down the curve of their body, tracing their torso down to the valley of their narrow waist and back up to their hip, rubbing circles there that widened until he had a handful of their ass. He pulled them forward with it and rubbed their cocks together, and the fingers in his hair twisted and pulled as Molly moaned into his mouth. Their other hand moved from where it had been tracing his ear to mirror his touch, grabbing a handful of his ass cheek.

The pressure felt divine, and Caleb grabbed tightly in a movement that he hoped that Molly would mirror. They did, and Caleb moaned and tilted his body to give them better access, sliding his leg toward their hip.

Molly laughed softly out their nose when they realized what he wanted, and they moved their hand in soft circles that moved lower agonizingly slowly. Caleb shuddered in their grasp when their fingers finally grazed between his cheeks, the touch sending sparks up his spine and down to his toes.

“Is this what you want, my star?” they asked, fingers probing gently at his entrance. The touch sent Caleb into a shiver: it was exactly what he wanted, but not enough of it. He could practically feel his heartbeat there, pounding with the sheer _desire_ of how much he wanted to be touched there.

“Please,” he rasped into Molly’s shoulder, practically hissing the word. The hand between his cheeks withdrew and patted his back, then Molly disentangled themself from him.

They rolled Caleb onto his front and stroked his upper back gently, reaching to the side with one hand to retrieve a vial of oil. Their hands were much more calloused now than they had been when Caleb had first known them, and rasped softly against his skin. They’d always had callouses — from holding swords, mostly — but now the tips of their fingers were also tough and leathery. Vaguely remembering the lute from the night before, Caleb supposed that made sense. They’d likely had a hard life on the road. Bards, for all they could appear to live a lavish life, had to work hard for their meals.

A drizzle of oil poured onto the cleft of Caleb’s ass and he jumped and gasped at the coldness of it, coldness that was quickly replaced by the heat of Molly’s hand. Tieflings ran warm in general, but compared to an anemic human like Caleb, they were burning hot. He lifted his ass in the air a little, pushing against their fingers.

“Eager, are we?” Molly hummed, and rubbed around his entrance. Caleb pushed up again and whined.

“Please…”

A kiss planted itself between his shoulderblades. “Well, how can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

Their finger worked inside of him and Caleb’s hips fell back to the mattress as all the tension inside of him melted away. His awareness fuzzed again until it was just two points of sensation, the low hum of his hard cock pressed against his abdomen, and the roaring of the finger working his ass open slowly. Molly’s hand on his leg barely registered in comparison, though he could feel the light pressure there.

Relaxed as he was, it didn’t take long for Caleb to crave more. “Mollymauk,” he rasped, but words were so hard at the moment. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and his head like it was full of wool. He wiggled meekly.

“Do you want another, love?” Molly asked, stroking his hair and swirling the finger inside of him, testing that he was ready.

“ _Ja, bitte,”_ Caleb hummed, and then flopped his head back down on the pillow as another finger pushed inside.

Once the stretch was not so much and Caleb had the capacity to think a little again, he twisted to look back at Mollymauk and make a grabbing motion at them. With a smile, they scooted closer on the bed so that his hands could roam over them, exploring every forgotten angle of their body. But it wasn’t enough; Caleb’s mouth wanted to be where his hands were tracing. He twisted more and brought his lips to Molly’s skin, the angle forcing their fingers out of him and earning a surprised sound from the chest under his mouth.

“I don’t think we can do both at once, darling,” Molly laughed, reclining as Caleb pushed them down to kiss at a nipple.

“‘s fine,” he slurred, kissing at their skin wetly and letting his hands roam all over their soft skin. He trailed down their torso with one hand, twirling a finger through the curls at their crotch with a finger, then took them in hand and began to stroke them languidly. The shuddering moan that the touch pulled from them was a reward unto itself, and Caleb smiled as he left their hard nipple wet in the cold air to move downward.

One hand held his shoulder tight as he kissed a trail down the ladder of their ribs to their soft belly and even lower still, and clenched when he licked a stripe up their cock and took them into his mouth. Their grip was firm, perhaps firm enough to bruise if he were lucky, delicate as he was these days. It spurred him on, and he sucked them eagerly.

He pulled moans from them until their breathing began to grow heavy and the heat between Caleb’s own legs was becoming impossible to ignore. He pulled back to look at them, disheveled and relaxed, and reached for the vial of oil on the side table.

It was cold in his hands and he knew it would be even colder on their body, so he warmed the liquid in his hands before applying it to their cock.

“So thoughtful,” they teased, but Caleb silenced them with a kiss and straddled their hips, reaching around to oil himself and take them in hand again. He had to sit up to properly align them, but when Molly’s cock was finally sliding inside, Caleb saw stars.

Their cock was slim, but still a lot to take after so much time, and Caleb sank down slowly to allow himself time to adjust to the stretch. He had to restrain himself, as part of him wanted to throw caution to the wind and take all of them now, now, _now,_ but he was patient and eased himself down until he was seated in their lap, feeling more full than he had in years in more ways than one. He began to rock his hips, and the slide of Molly’s cock inside him pulled a whine from his lips.

“That’s right, Caleb. Take what you need,” Molly panted, putting their hands on his hips to encourage him. “You deserve to fee good. Gods, you’re beautiful…”

And Caleb did, moving however felt best until his legs were shaking with exertion. He was so close, but so tired, and couldn’t move at the pace he needed to tip over the edge. Still seated on their cock, he shuddered and fell forward to Molly’s chest, breathing hard.

“Tired,” he panted, and they chuckled under him.

“Remember what I said about laying back and letting me take care of you?” Caleb nodded, looking into their eyes that sparkled with adoration. “Then lay back,” they teased, and gave him a light push.

Lifting off of them, Caleb rolled to the sheets and unbent his legs, which was surprisingly difficult. Molly soothed him and rubbed his calves, helping to ease the tension and straighten his legs, then turned him on his side and kissed the back of his neck.

They settled behind him like a big spoon, snaking their tail around his thigh and nibbling at his shoulder. Their cock slid between Caleb’s cheeks and he whined, suddenly feeling very empty, until they pushed inside and all was right in the world again.

Finally in position, they began to move. The pace that they could set in this position wasn’t the fastest nor the hardest, but it took very little energy and Caleb could push back as they pushed forward. The tail around his leg served to help hold them together and time their movements, leaving Molly’s hand free to ghost over Caleb’s hip and take his cock in their fist. The slide of their skin on him was heavenly, and Caleb was quickly reduced to a babbling mess as they worked him toward his climax.

The sensations built and built, overtaking all conscious thought in Caleb’s mind. There was nothing but the cock in his ass, the body at his back, the lips at his neck, the hand on his cock. The wave of ecstasy washed over him and Caleb came with a shake, mumbling Molly’s name over and over like a mantra. When he came back to awareness they were draped over him, cock soft and breath shallow with sleep.

Everything felt pleasantly muted in comparison to what he had just experienced, and the residual buzz of his release still tingled in Caleb’s limbs. With a thought and a flick of his wrist, he sent an arcane servant for water and stoked the fire in the grate. Outside, the morning sun streaked through the curtains and the song of birds coming out after the night’s rain could be faintly heard.

Caleb took Molly’s hand in his and brought it up to kiss their wrist. They stirred at the movement and nuzzled into his neck, tail pulling him closer where it was still wrapped around his leg. A gentle clatter echoed through the barren stone room as a tray with water was placed on the bedside table by a spectral cat, only the tip of its tail visible above the bed as it stalked back to the kitchen through a small door in the wall. Caleb poured the water with a mage hand, unable to move wrapped as he was in Molly’s limbs, and drank deeply.

The sounds seemed to bring Mollymauk to awareness, and they peeked over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He waved the other cup over as he drained his, allowing them to take it from the spectral hand before sending his own cup off to be refilled.

“The benefits of magic,” they hummed as the amber hand floated off, then they drained their cup. Caleb was about to offer to take it when another spectral hand appeared, this one a pale violet, and took their cup back to the tray.

“You have been studying.”

The vibrations of their laugh shook his chest where they were pressed together. “Not quite studying, really. Not like you do. Just a few tricks I’ve picked up along the way.” They hummed a little tune and flicked their hand in a banishing movement, and suddenly the oil and sweat disappeared from Caleb’s skin. “They’re very handy.”

The violet mage hand waved to punctuate their words, and Caleb snorted. He caught sight again of their foppish maroon coat on the chair by the wardrobe, well-worn, but well-maintained. How far they must have traveled with it to pick up so much symbology and wear, and spells besides. He could see symbols from the coastal regions, the desert tribes, the stoic clans of the north. Despite what they had told him about it not being his fault, Caleb could not help but feel a pang of guilt that they had had to wander without a home for the years since the empire had invaded their city-state. Wiggling out of the grip of their tail, he turned to face them and searched their ruby eyes.

“Will you stay, _Schatz?”_

Caleb wanted them to stay more than anything; he had felt more in the last half day since they had arrived than he had in the previous two years combined, a hole in his soul immediately filled by their presence. But he knew that his little stone tower in the woods could not compare, neither to the palace they had once enjoyed nor to the richness of experience that a life of travel afforded.

Molly’s face softened as they searched his eyes, and they reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. “Darling, you ask that like I’m already halfway out your door. I already lost you once, and letting you go was my biggest regret. I’ve spent the past two years wandering from town to town, looking for something to fill a void in my heart, and it certainly wasn’t left by that bloody palace. It was you. And now that I’ve found you — Moonweaver be praised — I am never letting you go again. You’re positively stuck with me.”

They kissed his forehead, and Caleb closed his eyes, fighting back tears. He wove his arms around them and squeezed, holding them as if they never had to break apart. “I am very glad,” he whispered, and they stayed like that for a while.

Finally, Caleb’s body could not take any more of the neglect he had wrought upon himself in the past two days and his stomach growled loud enough for both to hear. “I _felt_ that,” breathed Molly, and they devolved into a fit of giggles. “Come on, up with you. It’s time for me to follow through on your wish and make you eat. What’ve you got in this place? I should hope your pantry is more full than your rooms.” They waved a hand about the sparsely-furnished room for effect.

Caleb snorted and sat up as they stood. “My larder is quite empty, but I think you’ll find that with magic I can conjure any ingredient you should desire.” Excitement bubbled in him: it had been ages since he’d conjured something special, and longer still since looked forward to eating. Now the prospect of breakfast brought anticipation.

“Now that’s a trick you’ll have to teach me.” They pulled him to standing and opened his wardrobe across the room with a flick of their wrist. “Come to the kitchen. I’ll cook you the finest meal to be found this side of the Cyrios mountains, and we can share all the stories of what we’ve done in the last five years.”

“I don’t think my stories will be very interesting compared to yours, _Schatz,”_ Caleb protested as they handed him a tunic and pulled him along by the hand.

“Nonsense. You’ll be the one telling them, and that makes them interesting by default.”

“I do not deserve you,” he mumbled as they made their way down the stairs to the kitchen. He started the stove with a word and a gesture as they entered the plain room, and Molly immediately began dancing around looking for tools. They hefted a cast iron pan to the top of the stove with a clang, and then launched into a story about how it was almost as heavy as the imperial general they’d dueled in full plate armor. Caleb conjured a multitude of ingredients and helped Molly chop and stir, heart overflowing with love at the domesticity of the scene. He didn’t even notice the tears that had dripped down his cheek until Molly was at his side, wiping them away.

“I just missed you so much,” he breathed, and they pulled him into tight embrace.

“I know, love, I know. I missed you, too. But I’m here now, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I am more glad than you know,” Caleb whispered into their shoulder, then they broke apart to finish making tea and breakfast, sharing it at the little table in the corner while they made up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I don't know what is wrong with me, I literally cannot end a smut scene without at least one pun apparently. So sorry.


End file.
